Saturday, October 15, 2011
Friday, October 14, 2011
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Listen.Repeat.
And I told you to be patient
And I told you to be fine
And I told you to be balanced
And I told you to be kind
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
TWLOHA
To write love on her arms.
This is a charity I've kept up with for about a year now. It's a charity that works with anyone struggling with depression, anxiety, addiction, mental illness, suicide, and self injury. I think we all know someone who struggles with one or more of those ailments.
I was recently diagnosed with PTSD; not something I like to talk about much, but I'm surrendering to my feelings that it needs to be discussed. I endured a violent robbing at gunpoint about three years ago. For a long time afterwards I felt broken, and then slowly started to push the feelings aside, thinking I could "get over it". Within the past 6 months, the feelings of anxiety have been creeping back so I went to the doctor who did a thorough background evaluation and came to the conclusion that I'm suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. At first I laughed, because I'm a pretty happy person, and that is only something that war vets are struggling with. I function quite well day to day, and I rarely have panic attacks. But as we dug deeper she found my triggers- small black cars (similar to the one I was robbed by) make my heart beat faster, and I can never, ever park next to one. If I'm shopping at night, I always have someone escort me to my car. I have stereotyped black males, and if I pass one on the street, I clutch my bag tighter. I circle my car before getting into it, and have been known to look underneath. My heart races when I think about that day, or even now, my palms are sweaty. My doctor told me that once our system has been so traumatically shocked, it psychologically cannot process anxiety the way it did before. I feel awful that I've stereotyped and she assured me that may never go away. My anxiety is something that I will have to manage from now on.
I'm not telling my story for pity. I'm telling my story because it's just that. My story. When we hear someone is on medication or struggling with depression, attempts suicide, or even commits suicide, there are so many stigmas attached. Maybe we think they are weak. Maybe we think that they had a bad childhood. Maybe we think they cling to addiction to numb the pain. Maybe we don't know their story. My entire purpose of sharing my story is to make people think twice before judging someone. TWLOHA is an organization that helps with recovery and treatment. Next time we hear of someone struggling, maybe you will think of my story and offer compassion instead of judgement.
This is a charity I've kept up with for about a year now. It's a charity that works with anyone struggling with depression, anxiety, addiction, mental illness, suicide, and self injury. I think we all know someone who struggles with one or more of those ailments.
I was recently diagnosed with PTSD; not something I like to talk about much, but I'm surrendering to my feelings that it needs to be discussed. I endured a violent robbing at gunpoint about three years ago. For a long time afterwards I felt broken, and then slowly started to push the feelings aside, thinking I could "get over it". Within the past 6 months, the feelings of anxiety have been creeping back so I went to the doctor who did a thorough background evaluation and came to the conclusion that I'm suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. At first I laughed, because I'm a pretty happy person, and that is only something that war vets are struggling with. I function quite well day to day, and I rarely have panic attacks. But as we dug deeper she found my triggers- small black cars (similar to the one I was robbed by) make my heart beat faster, and I can never, ever park next to one. If I'm shopping at night, I always have someone escort me to my car. I have stereotyped black males, and if I pass one on the street, I clutch my bag tighter. I circle my car before getting into it, and have been known to look underneath. My heart races when I think about that day, or even now, my palms are sweaty. My doctor told me that once our system has been so traumatically shocked, it psychologically cannot process anxiety the way it did before. I feel awful that I've stereotyped and she assured me that may never go away. My anxiety is something that I will have to manage from now on.
I'm not telling my story for pity. I'm telling my story because it's just that. My story. When we hear someone is on medication or struggling with depression, attempts suicide, or even commits suicide, there are so many stigmas attached. Maybe we think they are weak. Maybe we think that they had a bad childhood. Maybe we think they cling to addiction to numb the pain. Maybe we don't know their story. My entire purpose of sharing my story is to make people think twice before judging someone. TWLOHA is an organization that helps with recovery and treatment. Next time we hear of someone struggling, maybe you will think of my story and offer compassion instead of judgement.
Monday, October 10, 2011
So it's been awhile since I even logged into Blogger...so much has happened since my last post..I think in April?
Mark went to school, we went on a honeymoon, we moved..yada yada.
Fast forward to now.
Everyone is happy...the kids are in a new school and they are loving it. Max started full day/all day preschool and was weary at first, but is getting the hang of it.
Mark is loving his new-found responsibility as an Officer...it comes with stress, but we are working out those kinks too.
AND! I started working, which I kind of think is a big deal. I have stayed at home for the past 10 (ahem looong) years taking care of my babes, which I wouldn't trade for the world. However, in those 10 years I lost myself. I feel like I lost my "spark" and I lost what drives me, what makes me happy. Taking care of my family is my absolute favorite thing to do...but now it's my time to do me. A new chapter that is really fun to open.
I'm really really excited to have found a salon that lets me do just that. I set my hours for when the kids are in school and I work every other weekend. My passion is hair...My drive is to socialize and to make people feel good. Without taking kids potty, or worrying about filling cups, or washing dishes. I've done that all day every day...I'm done with that. It may be selfish sounding...but my kids know that they are my world.
So now my days consist of taking kids to school, tanning, going for a run and then getting all dolled up and going to my job. My job. I like those words.
Mark went to school, we went on a honeymoon, we moved..yada yada.
Fast forward to now.
Everyone is happy...the kids are in a new school and they are loving it. Max started full day/all day preschool and was weary at first, but is getting the hang of it.
Mark is loving his new-found responsibility as an Officer...it comes with stress, but we are working out those kinks too.
AND! I started working, which I kind of think is a big deal. I have stayed at home for the past 10 (ahem looong) years taking care of my babes, which I wouldn't trade for the world. However, in those 10 years I lost myself. I feel like I lost my "spark" and I lost what drives me, what makes me happy. Taking care of my family is my absolute favorite thing to do...but now it's my time to do me. A new chapter that is really fun to open.
I'm really really excited to have found a salon that lets me do just that. I set my hours for when the kids are in school and I work every other weekend. My passion is hair...My drive is to socialize and to make people feel good. Without taking kids potty, or worrying about filling cups, or washing dishes. I've done that all day every day...I'm done with that. It may be selfish sounding...but my kids know that they are my world.
So now my days consist of taking kids to school, tanning, going for a run and then getting all dolled up and going to my job. My job. I like those words.
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